


Uncertainty

by DGCatAniSiri



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5128946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DGCatAniSiri/pseuds/DGCatAniSiri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Herald of Andraste. The Inquisitor. Anaan Adaar wonders what will become of him, and the man he loves, when those labels no longer apply.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncertainty

Anaan Adaar had found a certain comfort in what he had come to consider the constants of Skyhold. Though they’d only inhabited the stronghold in the Frostback Mountains for a few months, there had easily been a routine established, both for him and the many inhabitants of the fortress.

Stronghold. Fortress. Castle. These terms were all correct, yet one of the constants of Skyhold managed to make them seem the wrong words to describe it. That was the sound of children shouting. 

Skyhold had become a pilgrimage for Andrastrians. Anaan shook his head in disbelief at the very thought. Not just Skyhold, but HIM. He was the Herald of Andraste, and everything he did caught the attention of the faithful. The faithful of a religion he didn’t even believe in. He might refer to the Maker at times, but that was just a result of spending so much of his time amongst the people who worshipped that particular god. If he’d managed to spend much of his time surrounded by Dalish, Anaan figured he’d probably shout ‘Creators!’ instead of ‘Maker!’ when he was taken by surprise.

He had this constant and persistent fear in the back of his mind that eventually, the Andrastrians, or the Chantry or whoever were involved amongst ‘the faithful,’ would decide that they couldn’t tolerate the Herald of their prophet was a qunari, a mage, and a non-believer. It might not come, but some part of his mind still gave it more than a little attention.

Still, for now, he was enjoying the privilege of the people in Ferelden and Orlais, and occasionally from as far out as Nevarra and beyond, believing he was holy. And that meant people wanted to come to Skyhold, both just to ‘bask’ in his ‘holiness’ and to live within the protection of the Inquisition. In doing that, they brought their families. Including their children.

Skyhold seemed a different place with the shouts of children. The walls were still strong, the defenses still there, but... It made Skyhold seem more like it was just a well-defended village, not a fortress.

Anaan had come to view the courtyard from the walkway off of Vivienne’s balcony, having long since found it was a space where he could be alone, without being seen and swarmed, yet still enjoy the comfort of the courtyard. As he looked down, he saw a sight that was unusual, but welcome.

Cullen had entered the courtyard. It was good seeing him out of the normal environment of either his office or the war room. He seemed to be a little uncertain of himself, though, given the differences between the two worlds, the Commander of the Inquisition’s military and the peaceful moments of civilian life within Skyhold.

Seeing him down there, Anaan felt an urge to go join him. It wasn’t every day that Cullen left the old familiar environments, and Anaan did enjoy getting to see him in places that weren’t related to the day to day running of the Inquisition. Despite the disruption that having ‘the Herald of Andraste’ seemed to cause people when they saw him walking through Skyhold and not doing something appropriately ‘Herald-y.’

His plan to join Cullen down in the courtyard swiftly got derailed by a handful of agents showing up as he moved through the throne room of Skyhold and offering him reports of their latest activities, and all the assorted business that they did for the Inquisition. Why they were bringing these to him, Anaan had no idea – he was the Inquisitor, not the Reader of Reports. But bring them to him they did. It took about half an hour to fob off the paperwork on various runners throughout the castle.

By the time he made it out into the courtyard, he was surprised to see that Cullen was surrounded by a gaggle of small children. He was pretending not to notice the one perched on the railing making faces behind him, while still giving them material to work with.

Anaan didn’t particularly want to interrupt his fun, but it didn’t take long for the children to notice him. A seven foot tall man with horns would have stood out, even if he wasn’t the Inquisitor. They instantly stopped their activities and stared at him. It seemed they also thought that he would eat them if they didn’t act just so, based on the way that their eyes went wide as saucers. 

Their reactions got Cullen’s attention. “Inquisitor,” he said in greeting. Anaan smiled gently, amused at how Cullen had such difficulties dropping the formality. 

Before Cullen could start making apologies for enjoying himself, as he still occasionally lapsed into self-recriminations for daring not to be fully absorbed by the Inquisition, Anaan placed a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s good to see you get out of your tower now and then, Cullen,” he said.

Cullen blushed and cleared his throat. “It does make a welcome change,” he said. His ease with Anaan seemed to be making the children a little more comfortable about the grey giant in front of them. One brave child took a step towards him.

That was when the previously seemingly-absent parents swooped in. It seemed it was suddenly time for the children to go to their lessons. It could have been innocuous, if Anaan hadn’t noticed the glances their parents shot him. They might believe in the Herald of Andraste, but they weren’t so sure of what to make of the qunari who had been given that moniker. If they even recognized him as such – Anaan had had his doubts that his being a qunari was public knowledge, given the way that he’d heard people referring to him or Bull as ‘the ox’ as far back as Haven, not a soul stopping and thinking that perhaps it wasn’t the best thing to insult the heritage of the man who they were praising. Probably the Chantry refusing to acknowledge the ultimate heretic as the Herald of their damn prophet. 

Cullen seemed to recognize the sour mood these people created in him, and gently motioned for them to walk towards the ramparts. “I believe an inspection of our defenses wouldn’t be out of place, Inquisitor,” he said gently, his use of Anaan’s title a pointed reminder to these people that they were only here on this man’s sufferance. A little thing, but it was appreciated. 

Once they had ascended the stairs enough to speak casually without being overheard (the guards knowing enough to act as if they’d heard nothing of the private talk of their superiors), Cullen shook his head. “Maker, I can’t believe them. Even after everything...”

While Anaan appreciated the righteous indignation on his behalf, he’d long been used to worse than looks of concern. “It’s all right Cullen. Though next time, you sure assure them that I would never eat a whole child,” he said with a cheeky grin. 

That earned him a chuckle, which meant the joke did its job. “I may well.” Then he paused, locking eyes with Anaan. “I am sorry about that. You may be used to it, but that doesn’t mean it’s right. You deserve better than that.”

“I like to think I already have better.” He smiled at Cullen, a hand reaching up to gently lay on his cheek, his thumb running back and forth over Cullen’s cheekbone. Anaan considered Cullen’s blushing smile one of his most attractive traits. He had considered spending a night just going over that particular list of things, but other things tended to dominate those conversations.

The resumed their walk, making their way around the walls of Skyhold to Cullen’s office. Anaan waited until they’d closed the door behind them to continue speaking, wanting to discuss this away from eavesdropping ears, even if they willingly swore themselves to secrecy. As Cullen moved behind his desk, looking (and shuddering) at new reports that seemed to have materialized just in the time he’d been gone, Anaan looked to him. “I did see how you were with those kids, though.”

“It was difficult to grow up in as small a community as Honnleath was without picking up a few skills in... child care. Those of us old enough to be trusted but too young to yet begin a trade generally ended up supervising the younger children,” Cullen said.

There wasn’t really a way to ease into the next series of thoughts that came to mind for Anaan, so he found himself just plunging into the deep end. “I suppose that means you’ve... considered having children?”

Cullen immediately looked away from the papers he’d been moving around on his desk, looking right at Anaan. “I take it this is a more serious conversation than I thought it was.” He paused in consideration for a moment. “I won’t say I haven’t. It was part of what seemed ‘natural’ as a child, to grow up, get married, having children. The templars may discourage it, wanting a templar’s first duty to be to the Chantry and their duty, but they don’t refuse to marry templars who have chosen to make that commitment, usually with the expectation that they and their partner are going to have children. It hasn’t been forefront in my mind, however. There’s been so much else to do, I hadn’t even considered a relationship for... some time. Before you and... us, that is.”

It was much as Anaan had suspected. “It was different for me. I’ve never really been around children before. My parents tended to be against settling down anywhere, and later on, after I joined the Valo-Kas, well, people hiring a qunari mercenary band aren’t bringing their children to the back alley deal.”

“I suppose they wouldn’t,” Cullen acknowledged. He waited a moment, waiting for another statement from Anaan. When none came, he moved away from the desk and to his lover. “Anaan, what are you getting at, exactly?”

It took Anaan a moment to get the response out. “Are you interested in having children?” He sounded almost afraid of the answer, that he found something to be concerned about in how Cullen would respond.

That made Cullen hesitate. Anaan had always been able to hide his fears and concerns in the past. Even when he’d been terrified, facing demons pouring out of Veil tears, he’d been able to put on the brave face. This wasn’t a side to Anaan Cullen had ever really seen before. “I... don’t really know. As I said, for a long time in my life, I’ve assumed it wouldn’t happen.” He thought a moment before he continued. “I... assume that you aren’t?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve never been attracted to women, so I would have to... find someone willing to let a qunari adopt a child.”

“Not an easy feat,” Cullen nodded. Outside of Seheron and Par Vollen, qunari turned heads. And even there, raising children wasn’t a standard part of life, not unless you were specifically chosen for that particular role. “The Chantry would likely have had some words about it.” Given the Chantry’s hand in most orphanages, as they often served as unofficial funnels for new Brothers and Sisters in the faith, they probably would have made a very loud ‘NO’ at the thought of a qunari attempting to adopt.

“There’s another issue entirely...” Anaan murmured. He looked to Cullen. “I don’t see myself as a father. I just... I’m not built for it. You saw the extent of my ability to deal with children out in the courtyard.”

Cullen just kept from refraining from pointing out that he hadn’t even really done any kind of interaction with the children. It was probably Anaan’s point. Regardless, Cullen nodded in understanding. “As I said, Anaan. I hadn’t considered children a part of my future for a very long time. And I wouldn’t ask you to commit to that if you were unsure or unwilling.” He chuckled. “Besides, I’m fairly sure that holding the Inquisition together is more than enough parenting than one could ever need.”

Heaving a sigh of relief, Anaan couldn’t keep from laughing as well. “I can’t argue that.” He visibly seemed to relax at Cullen’s assurance. Still, there seemed to be more on his mind. Cullen had come to recognize his facial expressions to a point where he could tell.

“What else is bothering you, then?”

“The Chantry. They might be willing to accept me now, but you know how fickle their approval can be. How long until that changes?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it changes with the wind...” Cullen muttered. If Divine Justinia’s death had proven anything, it was that politics meant more than faith amongst the upper echelons of the Chantry. “Though the Chantry does seem to want to pull the next Divine out from amongst our own ranks,” he said.

“Yes, and demanding I offer a selection, when I really don’t give a rat’s ass as to who sits on the damn Sunburst Throne,” Anaan said with a scowl. Chantry politics had meant nothing to him back when he was a mercenary. They only mattered now because the Chantry had decided he was involved in them when they’d declared him the ‘Herald of Andraste,’ the prophet of a god he didn’t even believe in. 

Of course, Cullen was more of a believer than he could ever be, even if that wasn’t a relatively easy task. But he understood what Anaan was getting at. “You’re concerned about what happens to us if the Chantry decides you’re no longer divinely blessed?”

“It... has crossed my mind.”

“If that happens, then I swear to you, I couldn’t care less about the Chantry’s view of us. While I’m sure that Leliana or Cassandra would intercede on our behalf... I would fight to the very gates of the Black City before I allow anyone to part me from your side.” He stood before Anaan, meeting his gaze, despite having to look up to do so. “I believe in the Chant of Light. As we’ve learned, however, the Chantry is more than willing to change the Chant to suit the desires of those in power.” Then he smirked. “And we have at our disposal one of the largest standing armies ever assembled in the history of Thedas. Those men and women would fight in your name if you asked them.”

“You can speak for all of them? Because I recall hearing many of them speaking about me as being ‘the Maker’s chosen’ and that they believe they are fighting in Andraste’s name. I’m not so sure that they’ll rally to the cause of resisting the Chantry just because I ask.” He gave a hollow chuckle. “You saw how much the fact that I’m the ‘Herald of Andraste’ had for those people in the courtyard. All they saw was a qunari heathen approaching their children.”

“And that qunari heathen is the man I welcome into my bed each night. Those people in the courtyard can hang for all I care.”

“You speak very confidently.” Anaan liked the belief that Cullen was displaying. It was just rather obvious that he didn’t quite share it. 

“I speak from determination.” Cullen place a hand over Anaan’s heart, feeling the steady beat. He used his other hand to place Anaan’s unmarked one on his own. It had become a habit for them, a gesture that kept them grounded as the world threatened to tear apart at the seams. “I have spent years thinking that I would never have someone mean what you do to me. If I must choose between the Chantry and the Inquisition, between the Chantry and you, there is no doubt in my mind where my loyalties lie.” 

Although Anaan had an argument to that idea on the tip of his tongue, pointing out that Cullen’s support could mean very little when compared to the might of the Chantry being brought to bear, he decided to let it slide. They would face difficulties, to be sure – Anaan knew that the believers of the Qun were most likely eyeing the nations of southern Thedas yet, even if they’d lost their eyes and ears in the form of Iron Bull, which would probably put new suspicion on the qunari Inquisitor. 

And yet Cullen spoke with conviction, the kind that could do what Cullen swore. Anaan could have pressed the point, brought up that the soldiers amongst the Inquisition’s forces might not be on board with fighting back against the Chantry. But in that moment, he had other ideas that pressed upon him.

“You know, Cullen, you really need to find a place where the bed isn’t twelve feet overhead,” Anaan said, a grin on his lips.

“The desk has proved sturdy enough,” Cullen retorted.

Anaan decided they should put that belief to the test.


End file.
